


Mahal's Rewards

by TanukiMara



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanukiMara/pseuds/TanukiMara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin had been happy in his life of solitude. He had no need for a mate or a companion, no need to make a fool of himself courting another.</p>
<p>And then he had fallen through the hobbit’s door and that had all changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mahal's Rewards

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a sex scene in this fandom >___>
> 
> Companion Piece to 'The Real Thing'.

Dwalin believed Mahal liked to test him. Often.

 

Mahal had set him on his path, with all its trials, and he walked it, refusing to back down. He followed his King from Erebor to Moria, from Moria to Erid Luin, from Erid Luin to the Shire of all places.

 

Dwalin didn’t complain though. He simply suffered through in silence, obeying his king, fighting for his people, facing every test Mahal put before him, never complaining and never backing down.

 

Until now.

 

Dwalin wanted to throw the damn needles, the damn yarn and the damn little dwarf into a river and be done with it. But he knew that if he did so, he would simply leap in straight after to fish them all out. Love did strange things to people, especially when they didn’t expect to fall into it.

 

Dwalin had been happy in his life of solitude. He had no need for a mate or a companion, no need to make a fool of himself courting another.

 

And then _he_ had fallen through the hobbit’s door and that had all changed.

 

Dwalin had watched as the new group picked themselves up and made their way through the Hobbit Hole, messing things up and greatly distressing the hobbit. Dwalin’s eyes kept on him though, watching as he slipped away to poke through Bilbo’s books until he was dragged to eat by his older brother.

 

He was a shy little thing, but the ale Fili kept feeding him made him a little more outspoken. Dwalin watched the blush that graced his cheeks, courtesy of the alcohol, and squashed the desire to trace the red line with his tongue.

 

That night Dwalin did not sleep. He remained vigilant, ever watchful, and if his eyes never left a particular member of their company then no one was awake to see it anyway.

 

Dwalin would not act on his attraction. No, the little one deserved better than he could offer. Dwalin would not saddle him with a scarred dwarf who knew naught but war.

  
Ori deserved more.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Dwalin cursed Mahal as their journey continued. He couldn’t help himself from growing closer to the little dwarf. His heart leapt into his throat whenever they encountered danger. When Ori almost ran into view of the orc pack, stopped only by Thorin’s arm, Dwalin’s heart had twisted in his chest. When the elves charged them in Rivendell Dwalin had grabbed the young dwarf, thrusting him back and holding him there.

 

And when the Great Goblin had grinned down at them, telling his minions to torture them and start with Ori, Dwalin had nearly lost his mind, a red haze falling over his eyes that had not cleared until the wind was racing through his hair and the eagles were depositing him on the Carrock. He didn’t even remember how his warhammer ended up in Ori’s hands, only that every goblin and warg that his axes sunk into was another step closer to Ori being safe.

 

It was then that Dwalin decided he would not sit idly by anymore. Nearly losing Ori, though he was not _his_ to lose, had spurned Dwalin into action. Mahal had given him this opportunity, and Dwalin would be a fool not to take it.

 

He decided it then, he would court Ori. He would show the little one that he could care for him, accept him, provide for him, and embrace his trade. He would make Ori see that he was a worthy mate.

 

Then Dwalin realized his first problem.

 

Ori had only his sling shot on this quest. He was here as a scribe. Dwalin couldn’t very well care for the sling shot – it needed no care, not really. And Ori was a scribe, how was he supposed to show Ori he had learnt his trade through that? Write him a poem? Dwalin would rather die.

 

Desperate, he went to his brother, growling out his need for help and ignoring the beaming smile he got in return. Balin had wanted him to settle down for a long time.

 

Balin heard his predicament out and had vanished, returning an hour later with a set of long slender knitting needles and a ball of yarn, the colour Dwalin himself favoured for all his clothes.

 

Dwalin did not ask where he had gotten them from; he had simply looked at them like they were poisonous. Balin had rolled his eyes and shaken them at him until Dwalin had taken them.

 

“I know not how to knit,” Dwalin grunted as he fiddled with them. Balin rubbed his head.

  
“Neither do I,” He murmured. “Hmm…”

 

“I can help you there.”

 

Both brothers turned in shock to their king, who simply took the needles from Dwalin’s hand, as well as the yarn. He sat down and began to fiddle with the material, gesturing for Dwalin to come closer.

 

“It’s simple, like this,” he explained. “You take the yarn and simply…”

 

As Thorin explained how to knit, Dwalin simply stared at his cousin with his mouth open, wondering how on Earth Thorin had learnt to knit. Thorin glanced up and scowled at him, shoving the needles back into his hands.

  
“Dis insisted I learn,” Thorin snapped as he guided Dwalin’s hands on the needles. “Do you desire my help, or not?”

 

Dwalin snapped his mouth shut and focused on the needles, so small in his large hands, a frown quickly marring his face.

  
Dwalin was a master of the warhammer, the axe, the sword, the dagger. He could do this easily.

 

He could.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

He couldn’t.

 

He was ready to throw the damn needles into the deepest chasm he could find, tell Balin to shove it and continue on his way to Erebor without looking upon Ori again.

 

Or, alternately, throw the damn needles into the deepest chasm he could find, tell Balin to shove it, and simply take Ori into the woods to claim him in the old fashioned way.

 

Dwalin groaned as he dropped yet another stitch, fumbling to try and slide it back onto the needle. He couldn’t do that. He _wouldn’t_ do that. Ori was young – so damn young – and possibly had never been courted before. Dwalin wanted to do this right, to make sure Ori got the full efforts of dwarf courting.

 

The thought of Ori having never been courted before sent a thrum of desire through Dwalin and he inhaled slowly, concentrating on his knitting. He wouldn’t dwell on that. Wouldn’t dwell on the idea of being the first to take Ori, lay him down and see how far down that blush went. He couldn’t think about how he may be the first to hear the little one’s cries of delight, squeals of surprise, howls of pleasure and screams of pure bliss.

 

Dwalin snarled softly, annoyed at himself for the thrum of arousal that was racing through his veins. A thump next to him announced that Thorin was done brooding for the night and had settled in beside him. Balin hovered nearby, humming to himself.

 

“How goes it?” Thorin asked, his eyes drifting over Dwalin’s handiwork.

 

“As well as can be expected,” Dwalin grunted as he glared at his cousin. Thorin smirked back at him.

 

“So terribly?” he asked. Dwalin kicked him.

 

“This is a stupid idea, it’s never going to work,” he said, as he did every night. Thorin grunted and kicked him back.

 

“Not if you give up it won’t,” he growled. “If you really want someone you have to take the risk and-”

 

Thorin broke off, his eyes snapping to the side as he heard movement. Dwalin hunched entirely over his lap as Thorin’s two demon nephews approached, Kíli laughing manically in a way that always led to trouble.

 

The trouble became apparent when Fili strode forward, a bright grin on his face as he carried the shrieking burglar in his arms. Dwalin saw Thorin tense at the sight of the hobbit, and then Fili was dropping his bundle into Thorin’s lap with a cheeky wink.

 

“Your turn to Hobbit-Watch, Uncle,” Fili said before turning and striding off, leaving Bilbo in their wake. Bilbo squirmed against Thorin, sliding out of his lap. The burglar’s face was enflamed as he muttered an apology before darting off, hurrying to hide behind Bofur by the fire. The miner simply wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder, drawing him in towards the fire as Bombur asked him a question.

 

Dwalin smirked as Thorin glared across at the fire. His gaze was not on the hobbit, however, but the toymaker with his arm around him. Dwalin kicked his king, none too gently, in order to get his attention.

 

“If yer really want someone ye have to take the ri-” he began to chant in a condescending tone. Thorin snarled wordlessly and kicked him again, hard.

 

“Oh shut up and knit,” he snapped, his eyes drifting back to the hobbit. Dwalin looked over to see Fili and Kíli were with him again, scarfing down their food at an unhealthy rate. Bilbo shoved away from them quickly, clearly annoyed.

 

Dwalin shook his head and allowed his eyes to drift over the rest of their party, moving automatically to where Dori and Nori was crouched. His stomach gave a lurch of fright as he realized Ori was not with his brothers, and he almost leapt to his feet in shock, fearing the worst.

 

“Peace, Dwalin,” Thorin’s voice reached him, drawing his gaze back to the king. “He’s with Gloin, by the edge of camp.”

 

“Hmph,” Dwalin slumped over the knitting, a frown on his face. “Is it wise for one unarmed to be by the edge?”

 

“Gloin has his axe,” Thorin said, a smirk on his face for some unknown reason. “They’ll be fine.”

 

Dwalin scowled and returned to his knitting, but he remained tense until Ori scrambled back to his brothers, a bright smile on his flushed face, his eyes sparkling in delight. Dwalin set his knitting aside with a sigh. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything more that night, not after seeing Ori like that. The young dwarf looked so happy, so alive, and so _delectable_ as he practically bounced on the spot, journal on his lap and quill in hand.

 

Dwalin retired to his bedroll, pulling his cloak around himself irritably. He was just drifting off when Thorin’s shout for his nephews to take first watch sounded, and suddenly Dwalin felt much less safe.

 

His eyes slid open and fell straight on young Ori, who was scribbling away in his book. Dwalin watched him through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the way the young one’s hand flew across the page.

 

He didn’t remember drifting off.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The damn scarf was near completion – and by that Dwalin meant he had almost run out of wool – and Dwalin hated to admit that he was nervous. He didn’t get nervous any more. Not after his third or fourth battle. But here he was, dropping stitches and fumbling the needles, his stomach rolling unpleasantly and his nerves going haywire.

 

He had only Thorin for company that night, Balin preferring to sit with the hobbit for the night, smoking and chatting about Mahal knows what. Thorin was in a dark mood, his eyes darting from Bilbo, to Bofur to his nephews and back.

 

Dwalin ignored it all, focusing on his work. Earlier that day Ori had tripped while walking in front of him, falling backwards. Dwalin had darted forward, catching the young dwarf in his arms automatically.

 

Ori’s solid body had fallen against him, warm and soft. Dwalin had been unable to prevent his arms from sliding all the way around Ori, enclosing the little one in a solid embrace. Ori had gazed up at him, not saying anything, his eyes wide and his skin red. Dwalin had simply stared back down at him, eyes searching Ori’s face, though for what he was not sure.

 

“Ori, are you alright?!”

 

Dori’s worried voice broke Dwalin from his spell and he quickly released Ori, stepping back. Ori stumbled briefly, showing that he had been leaning heavily on Dwalin, and turned to his brother, nodding quickly.

 

“I-I’m fine, Dori, really,” he mumbled, peeking up at Dwalin as the dwarf hurried past him to join Thorin again. He could still hear Ori behind him, his voice catching on the wind and drifting to his ears. “Mister Dwalin caught me… he caught me.”

 

Dwalin quickly caught up to Thorin and scowled at the other’s inquisitive look. He simply marched on; his pace quicker than it had been before.

 

Thorin moved across from him, and Dwalin’s eyes snapped up from the bundle of yarn on his lap to watch as his king stood, striding across the campsite to where Fili and Kíli were engaged in a heated argument over the burglar who was standing with his little sword in his hands, looking completely helpless at the argument he had probably caused.

 

To Dwalin’s surprise, the burglar stopped the argument before it could escalate, and then said something to Thorin that him stomping out of the camp, anger pouring off of him in waves.

 

Dwalin snorted and let his eyes rove across the campsite to where Ori and Gloin sat, their backs to everyone else. Ori was leaning in close to Gloin, listening to the other dwarf’s words raptly. Dwalin felt a sharp stab of jealousy shoot through him, though he knew it was ridiculous; Gloin was married, happily so, and had no interest in the dwarfling beside him.

 

Still, Dwalin didn’t like it. He would rather Ori be seated beside _him_ instead, listening intently to every word Dwalin grunted out, and speaking rapidly in return, yammering on about anything and everything until Dwalin had heard quite enough and would lean in to show Ori that there are entirely more pleasant things one can do with their mouth…

 

Dwalin cursed his train of thought and stared down at the needles in his hands. He was so close to finishing this damn thing. And then came the biggest step of all – gifting it to Ori.

 

Ori would accept it, of course, no dwarf would ever refuse another’s courting gift. But the real question was would it be returned? Would Ori gift him with something in the coming days?

 

Dwalin shook away the thoughts. It wouldn’t do to dwell on this. It would only make him even more nervous. And that was the last thing he needed.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Dwalin was at his wits end. He had finished the damn scarf and tied it off, but now that he got a good look at it all he wanted to do was throw it onto the fire, find some ale and drink himself into a stupor.

 

The scarf was long, and full of holes ranging from small to large. He could almost fit his hand through one of them. The stitches were lumpy and uneven, the wool fraying in some places.

 

All in all, it was a disaster.

 

As soon as Thorin returned from scouting the path ahead Dwalin shot to his feet and stomped across to him, the scarf scrunched up in his hand.

 

“This is ridiculous!” he snarled, shaking the scarf in Thorin’s face. “You cannot seriously expect this to work!”

 

“Dwalin-”

 

 “No! I tried, that’s all I promised! It’s not right, it’s not good enough for hi-”

 

“Um, e-excuse me?”

 

Dwalin turned, a snarl on his lips, to see who had dare approach the two dwarrows, daring to interrupt their conversation.

 

Ori was gazing up at him, eyes wide and fearful. Dwalin’s scowl vanished instantly and he quickly hid the scarf behind his back. Ori continued to gaze up at him with those damn large eyes, so dark and pure in the soft light of the fire. He shuffled from foot to foot awkwardly, his mouth opening and closing several times.

 

“What is it, lad?” Thorin asked. Dwalin was still unable to say anything, staring down at the object of his affection and desire who was gazing down at the ground, eyes filled with worry and anxiety.

 

“Mister Dwalin, sir,” Ori’s words almost came out as a shout. “Can I please clean your axes for you?”

 

Dwalin’s jaw dropped and he sucked in a deep breath, unable to move. He stared down at Ori, who had clenched his eyes shut and was shaking slightly. A squawk sounded somewhere behind Ori in the otherwise silent camp, and it seemed to break the spell. Mutterings broke out and Ori took a step back, opening his mouth to speak again.

 

Thorin’s elbow connected solidly with Dwalin’s ribs and it spurred him into action. He stepped forward, shoving the scarf into Ori’s hands quickly.

 

“Only if you wear this while doing so.”

 

 

Or shakily unravelled the scarf, his eyes filling with wonder as he shook it out to its full length. The holes were glaringly obvious, the poor workmanship of the thing entirely horrid.

 

But Ori, sweet Ori, held the scarf up to his face, and nuzzled it, eyes filled with pure happiness.

 

“You- You _knitted!_ ” Ori breathed. “Oh, Mister Dwalin!”

 

Dwalin grunted wordlessly, ignoring the flush creeping up his neck, and took the scarf back from Ori. He wrapped it around Ori’s neck, leaving the two ends to trail down his chest. Ori smiled up at him, eyes dancing and lips twitching with the strength of his smile.

 

“Come on, lad,” he muttered as he slid an arm around Ori’s shoulder. “Grasper and Keeper are this way.”

 

Ori fit so well under his shoulder, his little body nestled against him so well. He drew Ori to where his pack was and sat down on the log beside it all. Ori hesitated a moment before he settled next to Dwalin, and the older dwarf picked up Grasper and his cleaning kit, handing it over to Ori.

 

Ori flashed him a brilliant smile and took the weapon, settling it in his lap, blade away from him. He opened the kit, taking out a plain cloth to wipe the axe over before he sharpened it.

 

As Dwalin watched the little one work he was unable to tear his eyes away from Ori’s hands, moving so steadily over his blade. Ori cared for the axe easily, his nights spent practising with Gloin showing. Once he was done with Grasper Dwalin swapped the axe for Keeper, and ran his thumb along the blade Ori had finished with. A thin line of blood appeared almost immediately, the blade sharp enough that he barely felt the cut.

 

“Mister Dwalin!” Ori exclaimed as he set Keeper aside carefully. Dwalin raised his eyebrows as Ori snatched up Dwalin’s own first aid kit – that Thorin demanded they all carry – and quickly dug out a small thin bandage. The little dwarf grabbed his hand and pulled it into his lap, leaning over it intently.

 

Dwalin closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Ori’s fingers brushing over his own as he wrapped his thumb deftly. Ori’s hands weren’t completely soft, but they were softer than most. Once the movement stilled Dwalin opened his eyes to find Ori gazing up at him, that damn blush on his face as his fingers stroked Dwalin’s softly.

 

Ori looked away when Dwalin met those brown eyes and picked Keeper back up, returning to work. Dwalin sighed softly, unable to tear his eyes away from Ori’s. The scarf really was the right colour for Ori. The colour brought out the faint green in his eyes, it made them stand out even more.

 

“Ye look good in my green,” Dwalin murmured before he could stop himself. Ori paused in the act of setting Keeper aside and looked up at Dwalin, his face turning an even darker red.

 

“Oh… Th-Thank you,” Ori whispered, his eyes falling back to the ground. Dwalin felt an almost animalistic growl rise in his throat at the red Ori turned, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in, his lips hovering above Ori’s ear.

 

“I would have you wear it all the time,” he whispered huskily, letting his desire and want show through his tone. “So all who see ye know that ye belong to me.”

 

Ori let out a shuddering moan, his eyes sliding shut. Dwalin groaned at the noise and moved closer, his nose running the length of Ori’s neck. He wanted so badly to press his mouth to Ori’s neck, to sink his teeth into the unblemished column and mark it, announcing for all the Middle-Earth that Ori was his and no one else’s.

 

But he could feel eyes upon them, Dori and Nori most likely. He retreated with a deep breath, carefully restraining himself. Ori opened his eyes, gazing up at Dwalin with a question in his eyes.

  
“Why me, Mister Dwalin?” he whispered. “Why me?”

  
“What do ye mean?” Dwalin murmured as he took his axes and returned them to his pack. Ori swallowed heavily and looked down at his boots.

 

“I’m no fighter, I just have my slingshot,” Ori mumbled. “And you’re so strong, and brave. You could have any dwarf you want. Why would you want me?”

 

Dwalin slid an arm around Ori’s shoulder and pulled him close, resting him solidly against his chest, people who were watching be damned. Ori let out a great shuddering breath as he rested against Dwalin, curling into him easily.

 

“I’ve never been interested in courting,” Dwalin explained as he basked in the feeling of Ori’s small body against him. “I did in my younger years, but never seriously. But the second ye fell through that door, I couldn’t take my eyes of ye. I wanted ye, Ori, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. But it’s not just physical. I didn’t want just a tumble. I wanted ye, for good. I wanted te keep ye, te have ye as my own. And I was willing te do anything for that, even learn te knit of all things.”

 

Ori smiled shakily up at Dwalin, his eyes alight with wonder as he pressed himself closer to Dwalin. Dwalin drew him in with both arms, holding him tight to his chest and burying his face in Ori’s strawberry blond hair.

 

That night Ori shyly laid his bedroll next to Dwalin, despite Dori’s irritable mutters from behind him, and offered the hardened warrior a sweet smile. Dwalin grunted in response and simply dropped down to his own bedroll, pulling his fur lined cloak upon him. Ori curled up under his own cloak, gazing at Dwalin with that innocent gaze.

 

By the morning Ori was curled up in Dwalin’s arms, head resting against his hard chest and arms wrapped around him as best they could. Dwalin’s arms were a vice around Ori’s waist, holding him close. Dwalin was the first to wake, running a hand softly over Ori’s hair to wake him.

 

Even Dori had nothing to say on that.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Beron’s house had been a welcome rest point. Dwalin had been ashamed to say that he had spent most of the day tripping over his feet as he looked back over his shoulder at little Ori, who was happily trotting along, face buried in his scarf.

 

Dwalin found himself seated beside Nori that night, Ori at the opposite end of the table. Only a handful of them were left inside, the Brothers Ri and the Durin siblings with Bifur watching over all of them, while the rest of their company either smoked outside or conversed with their host. Dwalin’s eyes drifted down the table regularly to where his intended sat, eating under the watchful eye of his eldest brother. Ori’s eyes always met his, filled with happiness and just a little bit of uncertainty.

 

“Eyes on your plate, Fundinson,” Nori snapped next to him. Dwalin levelled him with a glare that was readily returned.

 

“Don’t see how it’s any concern of yours,” Dwalin grunted as he bit viciously into his roll. He swallowed the chunk quickly. “Ori’s made his choice.”

 

“A stupid one at that,” Nori muttered. He fixed Dwalin with a pitying look. “You and I, we’re cut of the same cloth, Dwalin. We’ve seen too much death, too much pain, too much _war._ Ori is innocent, Ori is sweet. Ori’s life hasn’t been tainted like ours, and I would have him remain innocent for as long as he can.”

 

Dwalin took a deep swallow from his tankard before setting it down with a heavy thump, eyes remaining fixed on it. He let out a deep breath, closing his eyes.

 

“I didn’t intend for this. He’s too good fer me, this I know. He deserves more, he deserves everythin’. But I cannot stop myself,” Dwalin looked at Nori now. The dwarf was regarding him with sombre eyes, but there was a spark of curiosity there. “The moment he fell through that hobbit hole I wanted him. I wanted him more than I’ve ever wanted any’un else. I would have him as my bonded, my husband, my partner in all ways. I would treat him finer than any could, and I would never do wrong by him.”

 

Nori mulled this over, his hand fiddling with the tankard before him. His gaze moved from Ori to Dwalin and back before finally settling on Dori.

 

“I need to speak with brother,” he muttered before rising. He fixed Dwalin with a piercing look. “If I find either of you missing when we return you’ll deeply regret it.”

 

With that he took off down the end of the table, snagging Dori on the way through. Dori protested as his brother dragged him from the room, but after a few hushed words from Nori he followed willingly.

 

The second they were through the main doors Ori was scrambling from his seat and racing down the table to slip into Nori’s vacated seat. Dwalin smirked and reached out and pulled Ori into his lap, ignoring the jeers from Fili and Kíli down the table.

 

Ori tucked under his chin, little hands curling into the fur on Dwalin’s shoulders. Dwalin’s arms wrapped tightly around Ori, pulling him closer as he buried his face into Ori’s hair.

 

“They’re going to try and separate us, aren’t they?” Ori whispered into his neck. Dwalin’s arms tightened around him, causing Ori to squirm awkwardly.

 

“I won’t let them,” Dwalin growled. His chest ached at the very idea of it, of anyone taking his Ori away. “Mahal, Ori, ye’re _mine,_ and I won’t let them take ye. I can’t. You’ve wormed yer way into my heart and I can’t let ye go.”

 

Dwalin ignored the wetness he could feel against his neck and simply focused on holding Ori for as long as he could. He meant it. If either brother tried to keep Ori from him he would fight tooth and nail to get him back.

 

When Dori and Nori returned the both scowled to see Ori in Dwalin’s lap, and moved across the room to them.

  
“A word, you two,” Dori said firmly, frowning at them. Dwalin opened his mouth to tell them to shove off, but Ori beat him to it. He leapt like a wildcat out of Dwalin’s arms, grasping Dori by the shoulders.

 

“No! No! You can’t take him from me,” Ori shouted, ignoring the company that had fallen abruptly silent. Dwalin quickly stood behind him, resting a reassuring hand on Ori’s shoulder. “I’m old enough to make my own choices, Dori! And I’ve chosen Mister Dwalin! He’s a good dwarf, and he’s good to _me._ He knitted for me, Dori! You can’t let me come on this quest as an adult and then treat me like a child!”

 

Dori was gaping at Ori, obviously shocked by his sudden independence. Ori released his eldest brother’s shoulders to turn his glare to Nori.

 

“And _you,_ Nori! You have no right to lecture me on my life choices,” Ori said with a scowl. Nori looked down at his feet, slightly ashamed. “How many times has Mister Dwalin himself arrested you?”

 

“Ori…” Dori looked between his brothers with a sigh, running a hand over his braids. “If… If this is your choice, and you’re sure…”

 

“Then there’s naught we can do,” Nori grumbled. “But if he hurts you then I swear by all things holy on this Middle-Earth I will find him, and I _will_ kill him.”

 

Nori gave Dwalin one more hard look before he turned and stalked off towards the fireplace. Dori nodded sharply in agreement before he took off after Nori.

 

Ori collapsed backwards into Dwalin’s waiting arms, and the older dwarf tugged him close, enveloping him completely in his arms.

 

“You were amazing, little ‘un,” Dwalin growled into Ori’s ear. He never expected Ori to be the one to stand up for _him._ Dwalin couldn’t resist sliding his hands down to Ori’s hips, pulling the little dwarf back so he could feel the hardness evoked by Ori’s passionate words. “I’ve never wanted ye more…”

 

Ori squeaked and squirmed, turning in Dwalin’s arms to gaze up at him, face flushed.

 

“M-Mister Dwalin!” Ori stuttered, his face enflamed. His eyes darted around, resting on Fili and Kíli who leered at him. Dwalin chuckled and pulled Ori close, holding him and resting his forehead against Ori’s.

 

“Easy, lad, easy, when you’re ready,” he murmured. Ori gazed up at him in wonder and Dwalin couldn’t resist leaning in, his lips hovering above Ori’s. “I won’t deny I want ye, but I’m not going to push ye til ye comfortable.”

 

Ori looked back over his shoulder at the Durin brothers again before he grabbed Dwalin’s hand and dragged him away from the eyes of their company, bringing him to where their bedrolls were set up.

 

He glanced shyly up at Dwalin before curling his hands into the dwarf’s fur again. Dwalin smirked and leaned in, brushing his lips lightly over Ori’s. Ori let out a soft murmur and tugged at the furs, bringing Dwalin closer. Dwalin smirked again and moved in, devouring Ori’s mouth eagerly.

 

Ori let out a sweet moan, pushing his body forward against Dwalin’s. Dwalin slid his arms around Ori’s waist, running his hands over the little one’s back. He ran his tongue along the seam of Ori’s lips and groaned as he was granted entrance. He explored languidly, enjoying the taste that hit him greatly. He couldn’t resist sliding his hands down from Ori’s waist and giving a firm squeeze. Ori let out the most delicious combination of a moan and a squeak, squirming against the hands but doing nothing to stop them.

 

Dwalin pushed Ori into the small wall niche nearby and pinned him there, hands using the flesh in their grasp to lift Ori up. Ori’s legs clumsily wrapped around his waist, arms wrapping around Dwalin’s neck, and then the little dwarf _writhed_ against him. Dwalin grunted and slid his lips to Ori’s neck, biting at the pale skin there and leaving angry red marks.

 

“O-Oh! Oh! M-Mister Dwalin!” Ori gasped out, head thumping back against the wall behind him. “Ahh!”

 

“Ye’re killin’ me lad,” Dwalin groaned into the crook of Ori’s neck as he thrust against him, bringing their arousals together in a clash of beautiful friction. “Mahal, I want te take ye right here, spectators be damned. I want to _wreck_ you, so all ye can feel is me, so no other will ever compare.”

  
“Th-There aren’t any others,” Ori panted out as he slid his fingers into the hair on the sides of Dwalin’s head. “I’ve never… and I don’t want to with anyone else… just you, Mister Dwalin.”

 

Dwalin swore darkly and lifted his head, chasing Ori’s lips with his own. He pressed a bruising kiss to Ori’s lips, biting at the bottom one until it was swollen and red. He pushed one last kiss to Ori’s lips before sliding him back to his feet and stepping away from him, running a frustrated hand over his crown and face.

  
“Damn it, Ori, you…” Dwalin let out a frustrated sigh and looked back at his intended. Ori was a mess, leaning against the wall, eyes wide and lips parted, the vivid red marks on his neck standing out against his pale skin. Dwalin let out a deep groan at the sight and had to tear his eyes away before he attacked him again. “I want to do right by ye, little ‘un, I won’t take ye in a public hall where any’un can see. But if we keep this up, I won’t be able ta stop.”

 

“Then don’t stop,” Ori whispered, suddenly next to him. He took Dwalin’s hand and gave it a tug, leading Dwalin towards the hallway that lead to the rest of the house. Dwalin stared down at the dwarf who gave him a mischievous look. “Wasn’t Gandalf given his own room?”

 

Dwalin gaped at Ori as the little one giggled and dragged the warrior through the doors. Dwalin let out his own laugh as he hurried down the hall, hurrying in order to grab Ori’s ass and give it a firm squeeze. Ori let out a soft shriek before giving Dwalin a mischievous look over his shoulder. He stopped suddenly, causing Dwalin to bump into him, and then in a move almost as quick as a hobbit he pushed Dwalin against the wall, latching his lips onto Dwalin’s and enthusiastically sliding his tongue into the elder’s mouth. Dwalin groaned and angled his head lower, making the angle more pleasant.

 

He grasped Ori’s hips, pulling the dwarf forward, but Ori twisted from his grasp and darted down the hall with a laugh, pausing beside a door. Dwalin growled and stalked after him, eyes alight with fire. Ori vanished behind the door and Dwalin followed, his hands fumbling to unbutton his cloak.

 

The room was large, but nowhere near as oversized as the rest of the house. It was clearly made for men. Ori scrambled over to the bed, high thing that it was, and turned his back to it, eyeing Dwalin nervously. Dwalin swept in, his cloak falling to the ground behind him. He slammed both hands onto the bed beside Ori’s head and he leant in, eyes dark as they traced Ori’s face.

 

“Last chance, little ‘un,” Dwalin whispered, watching with satisfaction the way Ori swallowed nervously. “If ye don’t want this, say it now, because I don’t think I can stop once we start.”

 

Ori’s response was to wrap his arms around Dwalin’s neck and tug him down, their lips colliding. He allowed Dwalin to dominate the kiss entirely, his lips parting and mouth falling open. Dwalin’s hands shifted down to Ori’s ass and he lifted the dwarf up onto the bed behind him. He wedged himself in between Ori’s legs, hands stroking his thighs eagerly.

 

“Ahh, Mister Dwalin,” Ori tilted his head back as Dwalin sucked softly on his neck. “Oh, Mahal…”

 

“That’s it, lad, let me hear ye,” Dwalin groaned into his neck. His hands raced to the inside of Ori’s thighs, squeezing and stroking. Ori’s moans and gasps were music to his ears, and he just wanted _more._ “Louder, laddie, louder.”

 

“Ah!” Ori fell back out of Dwalin’s grasp as a large hand found his crotch, rubbing firmly. “Mister Dwalin! Oh please!”

 

“Do ye touch yerself here, laddie?” Dwalin asked as he clambered up on the bed, straddling Ori’s thighs. He grabbed Ori’s hands and pinned them above his head, his eyes boring into the younger’s. “When no un’s lookin’, or when we’re asleep?”

 

“Ahh, please!” Ori whimpered as Dwalin rolled his hips forward. “Oh my…”

 

“Answer me, laddie,” Dwalin growled. “Do you touch yerself?”

 

“Yes!” Ori cried out at last, bucking his hips. “Oh, I do! I do, Mister Dwalin, and I think of you!”

 

Dwalin hissed wordlessly and used a single hand to hold both of Ori’s wrists, sliding his other hand down to bunch the younger dwarf’s knitted sweater and shirt up around his armpits in one swift movement.

 

“Ye’re gonna be the death of me, little ‘un,” Dwalin snarled as he let his hand race up Ori’s chest, finding his pebbled nipple and tugging, causing Ori to arch and cry out. Dwalin shook the boy’s hands in his grip. “ _These_ don’t move, understand?”

 

Ori nodded frantically and Dwalin pulled the young dwarf’s clothing the rest of the way up and off. Ori whimpered as Dwalin proceeded to run his large hands all over his torso, tweaking his nipples and dragging thick fingers down his ribs. Ori giggled when his ticklish sides were brushed and Dwalin savoured the sound.

 

The giggle soon turned into a moan as Dwalin wrapped his lips around a nipple, tugging it with his teeth and sucking. Ori’s moans were high and soft, until Dwalin’s hands dipped below the belt. Ori’s moans turned to groans, and he was soon squirming like crazy, though his hands were still obediently above his head. Dwalin all but ripped Ori’s belt open and tugged his breeches down slowly.

 

He sat back and shed his upper layers, smirking at the moan Ori let out as the little one’s eyes raced over him appreciatively.

 

“Mister Dwalin…” Ori whimpered. “Can I please touch you?”

 

And damn if Dwalin could say no to that. He leaned in, running his hands over Ori’s torso once more before nodding once.

 

“I can’t deny ye anything, little ‘un,” he whispered. Ori sighed and reached up to grab Dwalin by the shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands roamed almost shyly over Dwalin’s chest, tracing raised scars and dips. Dwalin pulled back and watched as Ori traced his chest carefully, eyes as serious as if he was reading a book.

 

“You’ll have to tell me how you got them all one day,” Ori whispered as he stroked a particularly long scar that ran down his ribs.

 

“Another day,” Dwalin agreed as he leaned in to kiss Ori. He tugged Ori’s breeches the rest of the way off and had to hide his surprise when hands came to fumble at his own belt. He leaned back and helped the lad with the complicated thing and blinked in shock when Ori surged forward, knocking Dwalin back and tugging harder at his breeches. Dwalin lifted his hips and allowed them to be removed, smirking as Ori fumbled with his boots. The younger dwarf had removed his back in the hall, so had forgotten about Dwalin’s.

 

Seeing that Ori was getting frustrated, Dwalin helped him with the boots, quickly pulling them off and tossing them down to the ground. His breeches were the next thing to go, piled up and tossed across the room.

 

Both naked now, Dwalin quickly rolled them so that Ori was under him again. He simply held the other for a moment, enjoying the feel of skin against skin.

 

And then he moved.

 

He grasped Ori’s face with one hand, pulling him into a kiss that was both passionate and loving. He ran his other hand down Ori’s side until he reached his thighs. Done teasing, he grasped Ori’s cock straight away, stroking it roughly, causing Ori to all but shriek into his mouth, his hands flying to Dwalin’s shoulders and gripping tight. Dwalin groaned at the feeling of those nails digging into him and stroked Ori a few more times before letting him go.

 

“We need something,” he panted as he released Ori’s mouth and leant back. “Something to ease the way.”

 

“Mm, my coat,” Ori whimpered, pointing to the item he had draped over the bed upon arriving in the room. “In the pocket.”

 

Dwalin pecked Ori’s lips lightly before moving to the end of the bed, grabbing the coat and digging into the pockets. The two side ones brought up nothing, and Dwalin huffed in impatience.

 

“The inside one,” Ori giggled behind him. Dwalin could feel feather soft touches at the back of his calves and grinned. Inside the inner pocket was a little sealed waterproof box. Dwalin slid the lid back to reveal a thick goop that smelled familiar. That smelled like Ori.

 

“What’s this for?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “Is it what I think it’s for?”

 

“No,” Ori said, giggling helplessly. “It’s for my hands! They cramp up a lot when I write.”

  
“Hmm, too bad,” Dwalin murmured as he advanced on Ori. Ori scrambled back against the headboard, eyes wide with anticipation. Dwalin reached out to softly stroke Ori’s thighs until the little one looked away. His face was flushed and shy, yet he spread his legs wantonly. Dwalin groaned and quickly pressed the heel of his hand to the base of his cock, the sight of Ori so eager for him almost overwhelming.

 

“Please, Mister Dwalin,” Ori whimpered, his eyes closed. “Please… I want…”

 

“What do ye want?” Dwalin murmured as he slipped between Ori’s thighs, reaching for the box and opening it. “Tell me, lad.”

 

“You…” Ori whispered. “I want you, please…”

 

“Anything for ye,” Dwalin groaned as he coated his fingers in the thick ointment. “Anything.”

 

He rubbed his hands over Ori’s thighs as he positioned a finger at his entrance, teasing him softly. Ori whimpered and pushed down on the digit, forcing the tip to breach him. Dwalin hissed at the tightness of his little partner and slid the finger further in.

 

Ori arched his back, covering his face with his hands as he pushed back on the digit. He was gasping in little breaths, his bottom lip occasionally vanishing in between his teeth.

 

“Is that good, little ‘un?” Dwalin asked in a growl as he began to wriggle the finger around, stretching the muscles. “Do ye like that?”

 

“Ahh…” Ori groaned as his hips thrust lightly. Dwalin slowed his thrusts, scowling at Ori.

 

“I asked ye a question,” he growled. “Answer it. Do ye like this?”

 

“Y-Yes!” Ori cried out. Dwalin rewarded this by sliding a second digit inside of him. “Ahh, Mister Dwalin! Please!”

 

Dwalin leaned in and ran his tongue over the red flush that was covering the bridge of Ori’s nose, the flush that had haunted him since he had laid eyes on the little dwarf.

 

“I think, little ‘un,” Dwalin whispered into Ori’s ear before he traced it with his tongue, a third finger slipping in. “You can forgo the ‘mister’ given the circumstances.”

 

“I…uh!” Ori really was a funny creature – all manners. Dori’s mannerisms had rubbed off on the little dwarf, he was so damn polite. But it was just amusing to Dwalin to be here, three fingers inside of the younger dwarf, yet he looked scandalized at the very idea of calling Dwalin by just his first name. “B-But Mist- Miste- _ahh_!”

 

Dwalin stabbed viciously at the spot inside Ori repeatedly, watching in smug satisfaction as brown eyes rolled up into his head.

 

“Dwalin,” he ordered firmly. “Just Dwalin.”

 

“B-But-”

 

“Say it.”

 

“I-I… I ca-”

 

“ _Say_ it.”

 

“ _Dwalin!_ ”

 

Dwalin groaned at the shout of his name, sliding his fingers out of Ori. Ori sat up suddenly, hands falling away from his face and he glared at Dwalin.

 

“Why did you stop?” Ori demanded. Dwalin raised his eyebrows at the little one’s annoyance. “Don’t stop, Mister Dwalin!”

 

“Ye are incorrigible,” Dwalin chuckled as he swept in, capturing Ori’s lips briefly. “Now lean back and we’ll get to the main event.”

 

Ori flushed as he suddenly realized his eagerness. Dwalin chuckled and kissed him again, this time longer. He lingered against Ori’s lips, nipping them softly before he surged forward, hand fumbling for the box beside him.

 

Ori reached it first. Breaking away from the kiss shyly he scooped up the box. He slid the lid open and dunked his fingers in, scooping some of the ointment up. He reached for Dwalin who sat back and spread his legs, smirking. Ori blushed darkly and slicked Dwalin up, ignoring the soft murmurs the older dwarf let out.

 

“Ah, ease up, lad,” Dwalin groaned after a moment. “Don’t want this to end yet.”

 

Ori retreated with a mumble and laid back against the soft pillows, eyes wide and breaths coming fast in anticipation. Dwalin grinned and moved between his legs, grabbing his thighs and spreading them. Ori grabbed the blankets beside him and offered Dwalin a shaky smile.

 

“Please,” he murmured as he hooked his legs around Dwalin’s hips. “I’m ready, Mister Dwalin.”

 

“Dwalin, damn it,” Dwalin grunted as he positioned himself. He pressed forward a little, groaning as Ori’s body welcomed him readily. “Just Dwalin.”

 

Ori opened his mouth to speak but then Dwalin surged forward and all that came out was a long strangled gasp. Dwalin hissed himself as the heat surrounded him, clamping down almost painfully.

 

“Nnn, _Mahal_ ,” he whispered into Ori’s neck as he squeezed the thighs in his grasp. “Ye are so damn _tight._ ”

 

Ori gazed up at him, tears clinging to the corner of his eyes. Dwalin leaned in and kissed them away, murmuring soft nothings as he did so.

 

“Mister Dwalin…” Ori breathed softly as he tilted his head back, eyes closed. “This feels… _amazing._ ”

 

Dwalin groaned and thrust shallowly, unable to stop himself. Ori’s nails dug into his back and then the little dwarf was _wriggling_ beneath him, thrusting his hips in his own attempt to get Dwalin moving.

 

And Dwalin lost it.

 

He grabbed Ori’s hips and thrust forward, sliding into that delicious heat. His eyes slid shut and he was dimly aware of Ori’s nails tearing up his back, but all that mattered was that he was _moving_ and Ori was _tight_ and he was _moaning_ so beautifully. Dwalin panted into Ori’s neck as he nipped at it, tasting the sweet sweat running down there.

 

“Please!” Ori cried, throwing his weight back onto Dwalin. “Oh please, Dwalin!”

 

“Louder,” Dwalin snarled, his pace bruising. “Let me hear ye.”

 

“Ahh!”

 

Dwalin snarled as he felt Ori’s nails slide down his back again and he quickly leant back. He pulled out of his little lover and flipped him over while Ori was still trying to figure out what was happening. Once his little one was on his stomach Dwalin thrust back in, leaning completely over Ori’s back as he thrust even deeper than before.

 

Ori _howled_ at that, kicking his legs helplessly and trying to find leverage. Dwalin set a bruising pace, his hands grasping Ori’s hips so tight that there would be marks there tomorrow.

 

“That’s it, little ‘un,” Dwalin grunted as he basked in the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin. “So good. Ye gonna feel me all tomorrow, laddie, gonna remember this.”

 

Dwalin could feel his orgasm building, and if the noises Ori was making were any indication it was the same for the younger dwarf. Filled with the sudden desire to see Ori’s face Dwalin grabbed his hips and fell back, pulling Ori with him. With a startled shout the little one ended up on lap, backwards, head resting on Dwalin’s shoulder. Dwalin brought up both hands to run over Ori’s chest, pulling at his nipples and biting his neck.

 

“Dwalin, oh Mahal, Dwalin,” Ori panted, almost out of breath. “Please, oh please, oh Mahal I love you, I love you so much.”

 

That did it. Dwalin bit Ori’s neck and groaned as he erupted inside his lover, flinging them forward and pinning Ori to the bed with the force of it. Ori _screamed_ beneath him, his channel tightening around Dwalin as he shook, orgasm racing through him. Dwalin panted as he thrust forward half-heartedly, riding out his orgasm. He collapsed bonelessly onto Ori’s back, his face buried into sweat damp hair.

 

With a grunt Dwalin rolled to the side, slipping out of Ori as he collapsed onto his back. Ori peeked up at him with curious eyes, and just a little hesitance. Dwalin grunted and lifted his arm and Ori didn’t hesitate to scramble under it, curling up against Dwalin’s chest with a content sigh.

 

“Hm, alright there, little ‘un?” Dwalin murmured sleepily. Ori shifted in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

 

“Perfect…” Ori breathed. “It was perfect. You’re perfect.”

 

Dwalin chuckled and glanced around the room. He spotted a familiar green scarf nearby and he grabbed it. He lazily wrapped it around Ori’s neck, using it to pull him up for a kiss. Ori giggled and pecked Dwalin lightly on the lips, giggling even more as Dwalin growled in frustration and pulled him closer for a proper kiss.

 

“Thank you, Mister Dwalin,” Ori sighed as he leant down and rested back on his lover’s chest. “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t thank me, lad,” Dwalin grunted as he stroked Ori’s back. “It was my pleasure.”

 

Ori glanced around the room and giggled nervously, cuddling closer to Dwalin.

 

“I suppose we’d best head back out, a’fore Gandalf comes back.”

 

“That we should,” Dwalin agreed, though he made no move to rise. Ori peered up at him, suddenly shy again.

 

“Um, I uh, meant what I said,” he whispered softly. His eyes were boring into Dwalin’s, so dark and probing. “I love you…”

 

Dwalin crushed Ori to him, burying his face into the other’s hair. He didn’t say it back, he didn’t need to. Ori already knew, Dwalin was sure. He simply held the other close, hands roaming his body gently and pressing kisses to his head every so often.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Dwalin believed Mahal liked to test him. Often.

 

But he also liked to believe that Mahal rewarded all his hard work. Mahal would lay down a challenge, Dwalin would answer it, and now after all his many years of succeeding, Mahal had given him the greatest reward of all.

 

Ori.

 

Maybe Dwalin was being a sap, but at that moment he didn’t care. He was relaxed, comfortable and wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.

 

A loud laugh sounded nearby and Dwalin’s eyes slid open. He glared across the room at Fili who was nudging Kíli and pointing to their uncle. Dwalin followed their gaze and he rolled his eyes as he saw their burglar, encased between Thorin’s arms and legs ‘cleaning’ his sword. Thorin was nuzzling Bilbo’s neck every so often, causing the hobbit to turn a darker shade of red with every passing second.

 

Dwalin snorted irritably. How sickeningly sweet.

 

“Is something wrong, Mister Dwalin?”

 

Well, Dwalin wasn’t one to talk he supposed. He looked up at Ori, whose lap he was laying in, staring into the dark eyes that were peering down into his. Ori smiled at him behind his knitting. He was knitting something grey, something Dwalin suspected was for him.

 

“Not at all, lad,” Dwalin murmured, offering Ori a small smile. “Not at all.”

 

Ori beamed back at him before returning to his knitting and Dwalin chuckled.

 

Mahal’s rewards were indeed great.

**Author's Note:**

> Dwalin and Ori can just have all my feels. Seriously. That moment when you see Ori fighting Goblins and later Orcs with Dwalin's warhammer? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO NOT SHIP THAT?!


End file.
